


Cavatina

by dustjacketduck



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, the care and keeping of your duck friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustjacketduck/pseuds/dustjacketduck
Summary: The days were simple and quiet, just how she liked them.





	

The days were simple and quiet after the story ended. Charon helped Fakir build a little shed for Ahiru with plush straw bed for her to sleep in if she wanted.

Charon never asked Fakir where the pet duck came from, and Fakir suspected he may remember the story, but never found a way to ask him. But what was important was how warmly Ahiru was welcomed into the family.

Some days, Ahiru would sleep outside by the lake; some days, she slept in the the shed or even inside the house. But it didn't matter, because every morning he’d meet her on the dock for breakfast. Ahiru pecked under rocks, or dove for fish, crabs, or snails.

She was undeniably adorable, quacking and flailing in the water, but Fakir had Spinning to do most days, so he couldn't watch for long.

Fakir was only going to Spin for the town until they were led completely out of Drosselmeyer's influence. After that, he said, he'd stop, and put his quill down for good.

He had smiled when he said that, but Ahiru could hear the tinge of sadness loud and clear. She understood his reasons--as a Storyspinner, everything he wrote would come into existence, and there was no way to just write without that baggage.

Ahiru quacked and lightly headbutted his side. He laughed and stroked her neck.

*   *   *

With Mytho gone, Fakir saw no reason to continue attending the academy, but never gave up dance. Neither did Ahiru.

Soon, they learned that dance provided two outlets for communication.

Dance was a language in and of itself, and Ahiru used it to full effect, since her verbal language now consisted entirely of quacks and honks.

Fakir also hadn't lost the ability to let reality write itself through him, and remembered how he and Ahiru could hear each other's voices when he wrote about her. So sometimes, he just let reality write as she danced, and they could talk until she grew tired.

*   *   *

The setting sun painted the sky in flushed hues as Fakir wrapped up his current story.

Ahiru raised her head when she heard him yawn, and the dock creak as he stood. She swiftly paddled over to shore, hopping up on the bank.

He scooped her up and held her close.

“Quack?”

“Ahiru…” He sighed. “Let's go home.”

She quacked again, and by his tone, decided where she was sleeping tonight.

Fakir put her down in front of the door to the house and bid her goodnight. She quacked and followed him inside.

There was a bed of hay and fleece in a box in the corner of Fakir's room, and Ahiru settled in to wait for him.

She dozed off shortly, but the slumber was light enough that Fakir entering the room roused her.

She peeked her head out of the box and quacked loudly to alert him to her presence.

He looked vaguely amused, and waved at her before turning off the lights.

She tucked herself back into her bed, and heard him do the same.

The blissful silence and silky darkness enveloped her for a few minutes, and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Ahiru?”

His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and muffled by blankets, but the duck in question could still hear it.

“I love you.”

Ahiru bolted upright and choked back any noise her throat threatened to make.

“It doesn't matter. I know it doesn't matter. It didn't matter then, it doesn't now, and it probably never will.”

Ahiru wished she had a human voice just then, so she could tell him… tell him that it did matter, and always would. And she wanted to tell him that she loved him too.

So she waddled over to his bed and hopped up onto it, forcing her way under the covers while squawking noisily.

“Ahiru? Ahiru, what are you doing?”

His hand found her side, then head, and rested there.

A moment later, the bedside lamp flicked on and she met his eyes, though he quickly averted his.

“You're angry,” he stated flatly, and rolled over.

Frustrated, Ahiru squawked and lightly pecked his shoulder.

“Hey! What--”

When her faced her again, she was upright and poised, wings tilted and pointing at her heart.

He didn't finish his thought, staring at her, speechless, and quietly uttered her name.

He smiled, closed his eyes, and released a tense, breathless chuckle. “I'm sorry. Come’ere.”

She let her own eyes shut as well as he held her, feeling his warmth and hearing his heartbeat.

In the morning, she would dance. In the morning, he would write.

In the morning, she would tell him how much he mattered, and that he shouldn't have to give up something he loved to do.

They could figure something out in the morning.

In that moment, though, things were quiet and simple, just how she liked them.

**Author's Note:**

> Cavatina is a musical term for a short, simple song.
> 
> This story includes some of my headcanons about what actually would happen post-series--mostly the things with Fakir's spinning, and the idea of communicating through dance and writing.  
> Also, I love ducks. So it was nice to have an excuse to look up how to take care of them!


End file.
